Page 11 of The Bratva Contract
I strip off my jacket and remove my cufflinks, doing as she suggests. She watches me intently, eyeing my forearms like I’ve just whipped out my cock.
“What?” I demand.
“Nothing,” she replies, voice faint, lips slick from a quick flick of her tongue. That’s all it takes.
I back her up to the upturned boat and slide my hand up her jaw and into her hair, pulling it loose from its ponytail. Her eyes are dark and blazing as I set my mouth to hers. I tease her lips open, making myself take my time even though I’ve got her backed up to the boat. My thumb strokes her jaw, coaxing her to open for me. When she parts her lips, I don’t waste a second getting my tongue in her mouth. I taste her, fighting down the rev that climbs up my skin, driving me on.Mine, every lick of my tongue tells me. She’s mine.
Her fingers close around my wrist. Is she pushing me away? But no, she grips my wrist like I’m all she has to hold on to in a churning sea. I press her back, my knee going between her thighs. I snake my arm around the small of her back, anchoring her to me. Our hips fuse and I bend her back. The slow burn of this kiss is a riot in my brain, burning down all the good senseI rely on. I scoop her long hair into my hand and hold it back, sliding my lips down the side of her throat. She arches against me, angling her head to give me better access as I suck and lick. She releases my wrist, and to my surprise, she grabs my shoulders and holds on. I scrape my teeth along her collarbone and swallow the sound she makes, almost a mew that goes straight to my dick. I’m already so hard it’s a painful throb, crushed in my trousers.
Working the buttons on her shirt, I expose her bra. Her chest flushes prettily, breath hitching, breasts swelling against the lace. I cup one and squeeze, the soft flesh melding and overflowing in my palm. She arches into the touch and moans softly. Through the scratchy lace I pinch her nipple and her eyes flare, lips bruised, parted on a gasp. She likes it, so I do it again and again. She grinds along my thigh, and for a heart-stopping second I think she could make me come in my pants. She’s sprawled against the overturned boat, body surging into mine because I pinched her nipple.
How responsive. This is going to be fun.
I take her mouth again, her leg hitching high on my hip. I yank the lace down, exposing hot flesh, and suck her tight nipple. She writhes, gripping my shoulders, one hand in my hair, holding me exactly where she wants. And I’m where I want to be.
Unexpectedly, she grabs my face, pulls me up to kiss her lips again. It’s sensuous and consuming. She’s kissing me, and I wonder for a split second if there’s anything I wouldn’t do at her command right now. I want to fulfill whatever she wants and satisfy her like no one has before. Claim her, here and now. Fuck waiting for the honeymoon, fuck waiting for a bed or someplace comfortable. She and I were never made for tradition. We take what we want when we want it and conventions can go to hell.
I slide my hand inside her shirt and find the hard little nipple still wet from my tongue. I pinch, firm. She groans, “Dmitri, oh yes,” biting my lip and yanking me closer. Her decisive hands thrill me and her small body is all lush heat.
I drag my mouth from hers and set my lips on her other breast, my breath hot through the fabric I have yet to pull aside. She tastes of salt and sweat, earthy and delectable. The only thing that keeps me from eating her out this very moment is my need to penetrate her, to get my cock inside her and have all hell let loose. It’s beyond a primitive urge, it’s some instinct in my blood and bone to have her, a need I can’t begin to tame. She’s so beautiful and wild, running her hands up my arms and opening her eyes to meet mine. Her gaze shifts and she pushes against me, her hands on my chest.
“Enough of this,” she says, breathless but sharp. Disbelief flickers through me, she’s trying to act unmoved. “I’m contracted to marry you. I’ll give you an heir. But this is a duty, Dmitri Petrov, nothing more.”
“Just a duty?” I lift an eyebrow at her, skeptical. I don’t attempt to conceal my desire for her.
“Nothing more. There’s a limit to how cooperative I’ll be, like a musty boathouse? So much for being a new royalty,” she says, superior in her tone.
“You think royals don’t fuck on boats or against the wall?” I say dubiously. “What’s the point of a monarchy if you can’t have a good time.”
“That wasn’t a good time. It was far from the gentleman you acted before my father when we met. If I expected you to maulme I would not have shown you the boathouse,” she says. “Soon enough I’ll be at your whim and I know it.”
“We were both enjoying ourselves,” I insist.
“Hardly,” she says.
I crowd her against the boat and, holding her gaze, unzip her jeans, sliding my hand inside. She’s drenched; denying it is impossible. Shame washes over her face, cheeks blazing, anger sparking in her eyes.
“Get your hands off me,” she says.
I drag one fingertip through her wet folds, “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather I finish the job? You must be right on the edge now, just trembling there.” I offer, meaning to sound smug but my voice is ragged.
Her glare is a challenge that excites me. I rub my knuckle against her slit, pushing in just a little. A muscle flares in her jaw as she grits her teeth against, so reluctant to give in to her pleasure. I could force her to, I think idly, and I’d have her coming all over my hand in no time. But it might be more fun to leave her wanting me, squirming with a need she’s too stubborn to admit. She lifts her chin, daring me.
I hold her gaze, my breath sawing in and out of my chest like I’m sprinting up a mountainside in driving rain. Every muscle taut, my jaw clenched hard to bite back the roar of my need for her. I lean in, my forehead against hers, not in tenderness or affection but as enemies eye-to-eye. In the tight confines of her jeans, I twist my wrist so I cup her sex with my palm up. Deliberately I give her only the barest twitch of one fingertip parting her inner lips, stroking once into the luscious wet heat of her core. I want to stuff her full and feel the tense grip of her innermuscles around me, but I hold back, eyes locked on hers. She’s indomitable now and will not give me one gasp. Nor will she say my name again no matter what. She won’t let me win. But I know I’ll win just the same.
Her clit, swollen and urgent, presses against my palm. With practiced ease I rock my hand forward, the heel grinding into that needy nub. Her lashes flicker; a sharp breath escapes. She tries to hold on, and it almost makes me laugh. She doesn’t stand a chance, not with my hands on her.
“I can’t wait to do this to you for hours,” I say with a cruel grin, my teeth still gritted against the ache of my hard cock.
“Bastard,” she seethes.
A bead of sweat tracks down her temple. I lick it away and grind my palm against her again. Her thighs clamp my forearm, and I imagine her riding my hand, head thrown back, climax tearing through her. Sweat slides down my spine as I fight the urge to fuck her right here. For one heartbeat she tilts her pelvis, rubbing herself on me, drawing my finger deeper. My breath catches.
Locked on her dilated eyes, I realize I’m inside her. Only just the tip, but enough. The intimacy slams into me. We breathe together, unconsciously synced. She’s tuned to me even in defiance, and it turns the heat higher. I could be buried in her within ten seconds, but instead I lower my mouth and kiss her, soft.
She thrashes in my grip, shoves at me and turns her head. “Get off me,” she says, practically spitting like a cat. “Don’t waste your time seducing me. I know my duty.”
I step back and take my hands off her. She zips up her jeans, clutching her shirt around her. Her pale skin is reddened in places from my mouth and my hands. She’s blushing and doesn’t meet my eyes. For all the world it looks like I groped her, shoved her clothes aside and mauled her, grabbing and squeezing, pinching like some drunk who won’t take no for an answer. I wait for shame but it won’t come. Because that’s not what this was and she knows it. The tension between us is explosive, and she wants me whether she admits it or not. Maybe she’s not ready to surrender. But she will, soon enough.
